


Just Like Heaven

by PRETTYHATEMACHINES



Category: The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius
Genre: First Kiss, Gender-neutral Reader, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Other, Reader-Insert, Romance, Short One Shot, i wont lie i finished this damn story at 5 AM, it's best to listen to the songs as you read, lots of flowery bullshit language too, lots of rambling, not MANY references to in-universe things at all. i'm a fake fan, reader is hotheaded and SUPER in denial and swears too damn much, really spoiling the whole story with these tags arent i, seriously its short as hell, stupidly obvious mutual pining, yeah i'm one of those FUCKERS that write a story in all lowercase and for that i am sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-12 09:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PRETTYHATEMACHINES/pseuds/PRETTYHATEMACHINES
Summary: two outcasts in the early 2000's bond over music and a shitty job - and maybe they're in love.[originally an OC x canon story, which is why some details about the reader character are so niche and specific. i really, really wish this story was a joke, but i guess it's not!]





	Just Like Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> the fact that i wrote this unironically and put effort into it and that it's my first actual not-a-joke story since 4 years ago really makes me tonight's biggest loser. i............ DON'T know that much about the actual show (just literally everything about this character, i don't know why!!?) so apologies to any, like, die-hard fans of this cartoon that came looking for.. uh.. references?? or.. lore??? or other characters?? or something???? maybe a lot of headcanons and personal characterization (has he become my oc at this point? pretty weird)
> 
> i don't think anyone will want to read this, BUT... enjoy...? or not. actually don't read this at all oh my god fuck

[ _why are you so far away, she said_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wL1aJ_hzk4)

[ _why won't you ever know that i'm in love with you?_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wL1aJ_hzk4)

[ _that i'm in love with you?_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wL1aJ_hzk4)

somewhere in the month of may, in a fairly big city that you felt so small living in, in some shitty little fast food place that you just got done cleaning for the day, as you're about to finally go home, a specific set of lyrics are stuck in your head. from a song that you knew - you had the album, too - that played faintly on the radio during work earlier that day, and it reminded you of all the things you didn't want to think about right now. because, with those lyrics, a feeling is stuck in your head, too - and you've tried for months to suppress it.

you can't pinpoint exactly when it started. many months ago, after probably an eternity of trying to find an affordable apartment in what once was such an unfamiliar place to you, you got a job...

and that job was flipping fuckin' burgers. the one thing every family complains about, _better get a real job instead of wasting your life at a burger joint_, but what were you _meant_ to do? landing a job, not to mention keeping one, wasn't as easy as it sounded. you were honestly lucky to even be here for this long. you couldn't complain, either. while, yeah, a lot of it was hard to deal with - mainly just customers being douchebags, as usual - you were oddly fine with it all. it was better than nothing.

and you couldn't believe it, but someone else knew exactly how you felt. someone you never thought you'd end up being friends with... and he was the reason this was all happening in the first place.

you could still remember it, too, that first day. you had to psyche yourself up for quite some time, living somewhere new and having to interact with all these unfamiliar faces made you nervous as all hell. but if you had to get a job, you had to deal with saying more than, like, two sentences to these people, or else you were shit outta luck. you were gonna go in for this interview, no matter what.

you finally walked inside to get this all over with on some muggy september afternoon, and that's when you saw this guy for the first time.

it was no coincidence, this was the guy you had to talk to about the interview, after all (was he the cashier, or the manager, or what? you still never knew, and never cared to find out). but what first caught your eye wasn't any of that 'love at first sight' stuff, that doesn't even exist to you.

it was this guy's fucking _name._ you saw it on the 'now hiring' sign outside and thought you misread it, or it was an unfortunate misspelling. but lo and behold, it was on his nametag, too.

it was the year 2002, almost 2003, and this guy - who was even around your age - somehow ended up being named _Skeet..._ and he saw nothing wrong with it.

but you kept your comments about that to yourself. you kind of pitied him for that, at first. like, was he born with this name, or what? schoolkids probably gave him hell for it for years, if that was the case. you didn't wanna analyze _that_ for too long, though.

long story short, you _somehow_ got hired. throughout the whole job interview, you couldn't stop wondering why this was so... casual. he talked to you as if he was talking to a friend (or - at the very least - an acquaintance) instead of an employee.

the whole thing in general was so unreal to you. the way he spoke was as if his vocabulary was solely based on watching the bill & ted movies for weeks on end, and his hair was so gelled up that it looked like it could be a fuckin' stone at this point. what decade was this jackass stuck in, anyway?

but, for some reason, there was something oddly trustworthy about him. which was weird to you, because around this time you didn't think you'd really trust anyone here at all. but something between the two of you clicked - a shared sense of humor, a few shared interests, too - and once you got hired you got the feeling that maybe he liked you.

and soon after that, you were struck with the realization that maybe you liked him too.

so for a while, it was fine. while working with him, the two of you slowly moved up from acquaintances, to friends, and you never thought it'd be this way at all. that name that you once mentally ridiculed was now a name you became familiar with, one that you got used to saying.

not only was it sort of a miracle that you ended up working with someone that you could really get along with, but that same person also being way more experienced at this job than you. he always ended up helping you with a lot (despite you always trying to reassure him that you could figure it out yourself, which was a total lie), whether it was with complicated shit that all seemed so foreign to you, or just making sure that dumb little paper hat didn't fall off of your head for the hundredth time.

and, no, of course it wasn't very fun, obviously, the two of you agreeing that it could be such a pain, but something about working with him made it at least _sort of_ fun. yes, you did expect to make at least one friend at your job, but not to enjoy his company that much (he's the only one you ever _remember_ working with, with anyone else you only have a vague memory of a face or a name. sometimes, it felt like it was just the two of you, together). and maybe, _maybe,_ he thought the same about you, too. or not. probably not.

the working days bled into weeks, and soon into months, and... how did you tolerate ending up here for this long? you expected this job to be like purgatory, a grease-filled prison that you could never leave, a total bore that you would hate dragging yourself out of bed to go back to, something you'd probably quit soon to pursue something more (you'd never know what, though), but soon another strange realization struck you: you didn't really _want_ to leave.

but why? you found yourself so puzzled as to why, sometimes, you almost felt lonely when you left whenever your shift ended, parting ways with your co-worker - no, your friend - and spending the rest of your night in your small apartment (or did it just feel small to you?) and it being so painfully quiet. you were confused, of course, because you didn't know what made you suddenly think about all of that. of course you felt alone, you live alone, duh!

...was skeet the reason you kept feeling like this? like, he couldn't be, that's stupid, but what other reason was there? what was so special about him to you, anyway?

you listened to all your cassettes and records at home probably a million times almost every night, needing something to clear your head from it all. it didn't help, though, 'cause your idiot brain started associating so many of those songs with _him,_ it made your heart ache and you didn't even know why. (it also probably wasn't any help that a lot of tapes and vinyls were ones you got after hearing about them from him - you gave each other a ton of music recommendations, another interest you both shared.)

for so long, there were so many questions that you tried not to ask yourself, but invaded your mind anyway, eating away at your thoughts during restless nights as you tried so hard to stay asleep. why was he always so nice to you? why was he so patient with you? did he think about you, too? did he enjoy your company as much as you enjoyed his?

and... why him? why was it only him that occupied your thoughts, and nobody else?

every question that got in your head only made you push it all back down even further. you were probably just feeling lucky to have him as a friend.

but that was a long time ago. now it's a new year, a new month, and you unfortunately knew how you felt about skeet by now.

"you all done over there?" you barely hear him ask, bringing you out of your stupid love-struck daydream and back into reality.

your only response is "mhm!", coming out less like a casual answer and more like a startled yelp. skeet seems to notice this too, you look up and see that he's walking closer to you. "uh," he says, a bit of concern in his voice. "you alright, dude?"

you just laugh it off a little as the two of you start leaving for the night (you hear him beside you, swinging the set of keys around his finger - and then a quiet 'oh, shit' as he almost drops them). "yeah, yeah, i'm fine." you reassure him, after a second of finding the words to say. "it's just work, y'know? kinda makes me a little out of it." (which was, in a way, half-true.)

"oh, yeah, i hear ya." skeet replies, locking the door - then making sure he actually locked it. he leans against the door, idly chewing on a toothpick (which, a few weeks ago, you learned was something he did to quit smoking), and you pull your walkman out of your pocket and turn on a tape to listen to for when you eventually walk home, putting only one earphone in so you could still hear him.

"honestly, i guess i've been kinda 'out of it', too." he says with a sort of tired laugh, and then sighs. "work is just... fuckin... bullshit sometimes..."

you hum in response, nodding. skeet is staring up at the sky, almost looking like he's got something on his mind.

he looks back at you. "but, uh... with you being there it's, like, not so bad, i guess."

he smiles a little as he tells you this, and you try your best to not give such an awkward smile back at him. "...you mean that?" you ask, coming out much softer than you intended. you know he meant that, duh, but that same stupid feeling just compelled you to ask anyway. skeet still has his eyes on you, before looking back out into the distance.

"of course, dude. why wouldn't i?" he says, sounding sort of sentimental... or something. you guess this whole thing is a little sentimental, isn't it? it doesn't even feel real. you both usually part ways by now, but here you are, standing next to him, clutching that little paper hat that you once wore, trying not to stare at him as the only thing you hear now is the sound of a song called [Don't Know Why](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=13t8-85gTo4) playing quietly through your walkman. you both take comfort in the silence for a few minutes - or was it almost an hour? you could never tell during moments like this. god, it's just _him._ it's times like this when you wish you could just...

"hey," you almost don't believe you said, but it came out anyway, impulsively. skeet quickly looks back at you, quirking a brow. you look back at him, and you're trying not to blush, 'cause it'd just make you look stupider than you might already look (but, knowing your luck, you probably are.)

you pause your tape and shove your walkman back in your pocket, so you can clear your head a bit, and more words of impulse come nervously falling from your mouth, forming a question you didn't even think you'd be asking.

"are... you doing anything? like, tonight?"

before you can mentally curse yourself out because _jesus christ, you sounded so dumb,_ he answers almost immediately. "oh, nah, just the usual. goin' home and doin' a whole lotta nothing. why? did you, um...?" he hesitates, and you feel like you know what he's trying to say, just like he probably knows what you're going to ask him, too.

"well, i was just wondering - 'cause, like, we haven't really 'hung out' outside of work in, uh... forever, really." you explain. you remember that night, too. you can't remember when it exactly was, but you do remember how you ended up going to his fairly nice apartment for the evening one day, and how it was the day you realized that you... well, you know. you don't wanna dwell on it for too long right now.

skeet nods, as you start to realize he's not usually this quiet. "man, you're right. it's been ages! ... you know what else, though?" he asks, stepping away from the door he was leaning on. "what?" you wonder what he's gonna say next, until...

"i've never seen _your_ place, actually."

you're taken aback by that, just a little. he really hasn't, has he? "oh, shit, you're right!" you say. "so do you wanna come with? i mean, if you want to."

"yeah!" he agrees, before motioning for you to come along. "lead the way, dude."

so you do, sometimes walking in front of him, sometimes walking beside him. you find out that your complex isn't really that far from his, actually. you feel like it's something you should have known by now, how else would you almost always be running into him on your way to work, anyway?

along the way, while showing him which paths to take (for, y'know, future reference), you realize something.

and that _something_ was that you've been holding skeet's hand for, like, more than a minute.

you feel like you should probably let go and apologize, or maybe pretend to not notice (would he even mind? friends hold hands all the time, don't they?), but you look back at him and you notice that - until you looked at him just then - for what was probably a split second, you could almost see him staring at your interlocked hands in silence. no matter how many ways you could interpret _that,_ though, you decided to not think on it altogether.

and, thankfully, once you two arrive at your place, nothing like that really seems to happen for now.

you regret not tidying up the place, but you didn't expect him - or anyone - to be visiting. he doesn't really seem to mind, anyway. so you both spend the rest of the night chilling out, playing video games (he jokingly talks about how he envies how many playstation games you own), and talking about... nothing, really. or everything. you were both the kind of friends that could just make a conversation about anything, and end up making a lot of dumb inside jokes along with it. you try your hardest to keep reminding yourself not to get too caught up in all of this happening, not to do anything stupid (but, as always when it comes to this kind of thing, you probably will.)

after so long of doing that, you both are still joking about something stupid you probably said, at this point you can't remember, can't clear this fog out of your head, because all you could be focused on right now was hearing him laugh. like, genuinely laugh. something you, despite knowing him for this long, never really heard.

and you aren't even going to keep yourself from thinking that it's just so fucking cute, and feeling so grateful - having this guy, this guy who you've been so lucky to be friends with, right next to you, still in his work uniform, on your god damn couch... and you realize you're zoning out for the 3rd time today.

skeet turns to you, you manage to look away before getting caught staring - _again._

"hey, by the way - sorry, this is kinda off-track," he says. "but, is there anything else you wanna do tonight? i mean, like, unless you wanna stay here and keep talkin', that's cool! don't even know why i'm asking but - y'know." he shrugs.

"oh, well, whatever you wanna do, dude!" you offer him, happy that he still wants to spend so much time with you.

"no, no! you're the host! you get to pick what we...uh... wait, is it the _host_ or the _guest_ that gets to do that...?"

you chuckle a bit, he does as well. "man, i don't _know,_" you reply. "but really, it doesn't matter." that would have been the end of your sentence, honestly, but you can't stop thinking. thinking about how much you want to tell him that... well, _you know._

"but," you continue. "if you don't have any ideas, then, um..."

you're stuck on how to phrase your next sentence, he's looking at you, waiting for what you'll say, and your inner voice is griping at you for how much of an airhead you're acting like tonight.

so, because of course you couldn't stop asking such dumb questions, another one timidly escapes you.

"do... you wanna check out my room?" is what comes out, your voice growing a bit slower as you realize that _god damn it, that was stupid, wasn't it?_

but, fortunately, skeet seems pretty on-board with doing that, and you silently thank whatever god there may be that he never commented on how awkward you've sounded all day, _jeez._ (and, you've told him before about all the fuckin' junk you've collected, a hobby of yours, so he's pretty interested already).

you lead him to your bedroom, and - like a parallel of the moment from earlier - you catch him instinctively grabbing your hand, almost shyly pulling away at first, but then keeping it there... what is up with him today? well, better yet, what is up with you? you usually - almost always - can keep your cool around him.

but that doesn't matter right now. right now, you've made it into your room, and suddenly he's in there before you are, marveling at the things on your shelves, collectables, figurines, all the band posters on the walls, he's telling you how 'far out' it all is, and _god,_ you think, _he's in my fucking room, for real, what the hell._ this shit is _not_ happening, it's all happening so fast. this has to be another stupid daydream you're having, you feel like you should be waking up any minute now.

but what he's immediately drawn to the most is your record player, something you took pride in taking with you once you moved out of your parents' house. "holy shit, dude, you didn't tell me you collected vinyls! that is _so_ cool!" he tells you, sitting himself down on your decently-made bed. you smile back at him, of course you do, and you didn't know he'd be so into that.

"you - err, we can listen to one, if you'd like." you offer, and then - oh, wait! you almost forgot about something. you tell him to hold up a bit as you start rummaging through the wooden box of records.

there was something you bought, sort-of impulsively, in case a day like this one ever came up. to be fair, you like the band too, but you didn't buy it entirely for yourself. it was something you got for skeet, to impress him... jesus, how lame. but you accept how dumb and cliche it is, buying a _record_ for your _crush,_ something that totally makes you feel like a sap, and keep looking.

flipping through probably a million vinyls - Heart, Hanoi Rocks, Rush, an album called _White Pepper_ that you only just bought yesterday, until you finally see it. sticking out from the rest, a bright yellow cover catches your eye. the one you were looking for. an album simply called _Business As Usual_, by Men At Work.

proudly holding the record up to show it to him, it's even better watching his eyes light up when he sees it, even moreso after he finds out that you bought it because of _him,_ because _he_ talked so much about liking it (you admit - he is a dork. you both are, really), and it's such a damn good feeling, seeing him happy. if it were anyone else, you'd be wondering why anyone would be so ecstatic over an album, but it's just so special to you because it's him.

so there you are, chilling out again. you're both sitting on your bed now as the record plays, skeet is talking on and on with you about, well, a lot of things, but mainly just all the songs that were _'so underrated, for real'._ by now, it's gone dark outside, the only light being the warm glow of your lamp, and it feels like you're the only two people on earth right now.

by the time [Down By The Sea](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-672m20FVk) is playing, after some talk about how it's probably one of his favorite tracks, you both sit in relative silence, letting the track play on. the same sort of silence you shared earlier, outside.

you still can't believe this is even happening. you don't want to spend too much time fawning over this dude all day, so you try not to really _look_ at him. but, sometimes, you glance up at him - and he's mostly just staring off into space, looking to be in a sort of deep thought, but a few times, you can see him looking at you. something about it, the way he's just sharing this moment with you, right now...

frankly, you can't fuckin' take it. you gotta think of something, some stupid, sappy thing to say that'll just sweep him off his feet right now. but you can't. you just can't, it's not like you're in a movie or something, where shit like that can just happen. this is real life, you know it, and you know that after this song he's probably going to go back to his place, and things will just be like they always are.

but then, before you can say anything to break the silence between you, skeet says your name. hesitantly, unsure. you turn to him. "yeah?" you respond, and you aren't sure what to say, either. you hope that your burning, aching nervousness isn't showing, and after a while, he answers.

"okay... so, like, we're friends, right? i - i mean, _duh,_ i know we are, but... i've been thinking. like, really thinking. and i kind of want to tell you something, dude. it's kinda personal. and - kinda stupid, too, i guess. i dunno." he admits, his voice low and quiet.

"lay it on me." you tell him, trying to sound a lot more relaxed than you actually are.

so he does, as the song continues, he goes on a sort of long-winded monologue about just how lucky he feels, being friends with you. how glad he is that you're there for him. that you're here with him. that he thinks you might be one of the only reasons he even likes his job, really, and that he knew all of this before, but only today did he realize how important it all is to him. how important you are to him. he sounds so unusually shy - his voice usually being so cocky and confident - and his gaze is glued to the floor as he speaks to you.

and you, your inner tension still there, with a hint of intrigue, have a million thoughts running through your mind right now. like, yeah, you think this about him too, you really do, but what is this all leading up to? what is he trying to say? what is he _going_ to say? does he not know, either? it's all so much, yet not enough, and you feel like you should ask...

until he pauses. and he looks back up at you, sighing, and you don't know what to expect. but then you see the look on his face, so gentle, yet full of worry, seemingly helpless, in a way - and you feel like, maybe, you know what is about to happen. and then, it does.

"i... i think... that i'm in love with you."

for a moment, everything is still. you feel like the hands of time have stopped now, the world no longer turning. maybe, just for a second, your heart probably stopped, too, now racing faster than you've ever felt. the only real semblance of motion now was the record, still going, on the same song, the only sound in the room is the music,

_listen to your heart,_

_screaming at the sky_

_can't you feel it tremble?_

_don't you wonder why?_

nothing at all is letting you know that this is all really happening, that this isn't some dream that's right about to end, until...

"... sorry." he mutters, averting his eyes once more. he sounds so guilty, and you don't know why. "really. i'm sorry. i just... felt like i should say it now. i've wanted to say it for, like, a long time, but..." he slowly starts to rise up off of the bed. "d- do you want me to go now? i can, if you want-"

you suddenly grab his hand, impulsively, cutting him off. he looks back at you, sitting back down, with that same confused, nervous look from before. your hand stays on his. you have to think of something, right now.

"skeet," you begin. saying his name, especially now, pierces your heart like a fucking needle, with the same feeling of seeing that same name being displayed to you on the same old nametag he's had for so long, that he still has on right now, with the lamp's light reflecting off of it so brightly.

but you don't know what to do. what the hell do you say? like, you know how you feel - a lot of things, but most of all, you're just so overjoyed. he feels the same exact way you felt about him for so long. but you can't just sit here staring back at him, saucer-eyed, full of so many emotions at once, while he, too, seems so anxious about what you might tell him. "it's alright," you reassure him - or are you reassuring yourself, too? then, you're stuck again.

"what do you mean?" he questions, voice still quiet, still sounding as if he'd done something wrong. the record has stopped by now, and you know that you can't think of some cliche line that'll perfectly show how you feel. this is all real, you have to be real, and you know he needs that. so, you tell him the truth.

"i actually - sort of - brought you up here to tell _you_ that."

immediately after you say that, he looks so shocked, so taken aback by this, more than you thought he'd be. was he only expecting you to reject him? to start avoiding him?

"... you're joking, aren't you?" skeet asks, doubting you. "like, i get it if you are, or if you're just sayin' that to be nice, y'know."

it kind of hurts, really, to know that he thinks you were just pitying him, or making fun of him, and that the way he's saying it sounds as if it's something he'd been through a million times before. but you can't blame him, you understand the feeling. you could relate.

"i- i'm not, honest." you confess, moving just a little closer to him. "why do you think i'd lie to you about that?"

"i mean, i know you don't really, like, lie about shit at all. you're not that kinda type. but i dunno. i guess it's just that nobody's ever really... felt that way about me before." he shyly admits.

you hesitate at first, feeling awful for him, and wanting to say so, so much. "i know," you tell him, softly. "i know how you feel. it fuckin' sucks to go through that, honestly. but i mean it. i do feel the same, i always have." you steady your breathing a little, and you finally say it,

"i love you."

and that's enough for him to realize that you _do_ mean it.

he's starting to smile again, you both are. you're feeling better than you've ever felt, and it feels like he is, too, and everything's wonderful for the rest of the night - perfect, even.

amidst all the shared joy of finally figuring out your now glaringly-obvious mutual pining, skeet asks if it means you two are _'...y'know...'_ \- and, yeah, that could really mean anything, but you can tell what he's trying to imply - and you'd love to, of _course_ you would. he eventually says 'i love you', too, once you tell him that, and it just feels so good to hear from him.

and, believe it or not, you end up kissing him later that night, too. it's a little unreal to you, honestly, you didn't expect it to happen that quickly, it just sort of happens. when your lips meet, it is painfully apparent that both of you are pretty inexperienced - all that you can think is _'god, this guy is 19 and hasn't even had his first kiss until now'_, but not mockingly, because then again, the same could be said about you. but in the end, you both get the hang of it, falling into a dizziful bliss, and it's fucking incredible, all of this is.

he ends up staying for the night, sleeping in your arms, and just as you're drifting off, you finally realize that you two got so caught up in the moment - the whole night, really - that you both never remembered to change out of your god damn work clothes.

so it's another morning, somewhere in the month of may, in that same big city, and you're walking to work, to the same shitty little fast food joint, on the same path you've taken every time.

but it's different today. today, you're walking hand-in-hand with your co-worker, your closest friend, the smitten fool that's been after your heart for so, so long. you're listening to your walkman on the way, sharing earphones, listening to a song called [Terminal Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LYm5eGtq_3Q), and he's smiling brighter than you've ever seen. and you - though you've never really been that lonely - feel a lot less alone than you thought you were in this place still full of so many unfamiliar people. but it doesn't matter. you both have each other, and everything's alright.

but, despite everything, the song that found its way into your head from the previous night still lingers, but it means so much more to you than it did before.

_you, soft and only_

_you, lost and lonely_

_you,_

** _just like heaven._ **

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe you read this far i want to DIE!! AAAAA!!! on god i'm going to hell for posting this


End file.
